


we are your friends

by porcelainsilver



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Assisted Suicide, Depression, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Paranoia, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, if it doesnt make sense dont @ me, if u squint, its just trigger warning after trigger warning, its like an alternate beginning of civil war, just idk i rearranged everything in ten minutes, sarah rogers makes a cameo appearance, steve loves bucky, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 07:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainsilver/pseuds/porcelainsilver
Summary: The Avengers exist, but not as Bucky thought.(an alternate beginning to civil war)





	we are your friends

**Author's Note:**

> hooray for my first fic in almost five years. basically i wrote this last year as a 1000 word story for english class but my teacher was like "nah it sucks write something else" and i was like,,,,, excuse. so i changed the names added a paragraph or two and now the avengers are bad guys and im sorry

Bucky bolted through the fog, droplets of rain beat down on his hollow face and stung his arms, creating watery red streaks on his wounded skin. His pale blue eyes replicated a corpse, lifeless and broken, fear swimming deep in his irises as he peeked over his shoulder. His lungs ached, his breath coming out in short bursts every time he hit the ground. His bare feet burned from the years of running, blistered and torn since the first night he met them.

He shouldn't have let his guard down, they knew him too well.

The gravel crunched beneath him, the endless roads of the neighbourhood already embedded into his mind. There was no where left to hide, they already knew all his places. Had eventually found him and tore him apart with their hands and words, each time. Reopening his healed scars and making him bleed onto the pavement, staining his brown hair with tears.

It was only him. One fragile, broken person against five of the strongest mind-warpers known. At first they were friends, they were comforting, who he turned to when he felt weak and on the verge of falling apart. They had showed him their ways, their power, what they could do to help him during difficult times. All the moments with them were painful, yet painless. When he was in their presence, he found he could breathe again – if only for a little while.

He met Wanda, first. Her watery skin and dark, sorrowful complexion had the secrets of a thousand lies embedded in the cells. She had watched as he walked away from the only person he had ever known, drenched in salt water. Confused and unsure of what had just come over him.

She was looking back and laughing as he stood there in the street, lips turned downward as tears blurred his eyes. She had appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost in the night and stood by his side, whispering that he was never Steve's friend. Steve had only wanted to save himself from the freak in Hydra's circus. From that moment, he saw her everywhere. Places no one who is looking would know where he would be.

She often spoke with derivative, preaching that he was always going to be this monster. That he would never be a better person. Maybe he never was a good person, even before he fell. She crawled through the cracks in his window and visited him in the nights he couldn’t sleep. When he was alone and thinking too much, she was there, confirming his thoughts and suspicions with little words that distorted his vision.

Natasha wasn’t much. Inhumanly pale, with an unwavering red line around her neck and shadowy bags under her eyes. She sometimes stated that she was death, herself, in the few times somebody commented on it. She was an acquaintance he passed on the street, who would sometimes greet him with a ‘hello’. He rarely thought of her, until she became a friend.

She spoke of how she wanted to leave this darkened, bleak town and told of her ideas to escape. At first, he was supportive of her disappearance. He told her to do what was best for her psyche, to put her mental health before the feelings of others. Just as he was. She explained that life was too tough for someone like her, a weakling in the power of unbreakable souls. Whispered that not everyone is made for this world and spoke of all the ways she planned to leave.

He realised then, that her methods of leaving were permanent. Instead of leaving this deadbeat town, she wanted to be embedded 6-feet into the ground. Running away to the sky, rather than leaving in the night.

Tony was next. He had nails bitten down to the fingertips and a constant expression of fright. When Tony showed up, Bucky was creating a new name for himself. An identity with passports and fake birth certificates. Things that, in their creation, forced him to stand in front of his strangers with wide eyes and clenched, white knuckles.

Tony was always standing next to him, mildly shaking out of fear, biting his fingernails while subconsciously looking at all the people that surrounded him. Gazing over his shoulder with a crippling fear that couldn't be explained. Tony had stared at him, catching his eyes and producing a pained, shy smile, before reminding him of all the people who are staring at him. They knew who he was. What he had done. They knew. 

After Tony, he met Clint. Clint was skin and bones, he never ate in front of other people, and when confronted he lied and said he had eaten before. They had met when Bucky had been in line next to him at the fast food restaurant, intently staring at him and questioning his food choices. Asking him if he really needed that burger or that sandwich. Are cookies really edible?

Clint would always follow him around, watching what he ate. Clint had convinced him that he was overweight, that his thighs were too fat and his torso too pudgy. Over the space of two weeks, he started to agree, causing Clint to stop by constantly to help him lose weight. To help him become ‘genuinely attractive’, as he put it.

Clint told him that he didn’t need to eat breakfast or lunch, saying that they were unnecessary and only made his weight worse. At the dinner table he muttered that the food was too large a proportion for his eating guidelines and would take his plate away from him.

Sam came after. At first, he was unsure of Sam. He always wore sweaters, even on the days that reached 45 degrees, yet he remained un-phased by the heat, and continued to subconsciously scratch at his arms through the fabric.

People often spoke of him with disdain in their voices, their hate for him bathing in their irises and burning their fingertips. However, Sam was helpful and supportive and gave him a reason to go on through the day. Sam always stared at him in the hallways, watching from a distance with a gentle smile, the sweater he constantly wore hanging off his slim  
shoulders and mouthing supportive sentences his way.

He ran into Sam in his bathroom, one time. He had observed as Sam fixed his sweater, explained how he let himself into Bucky's room and proceeded to scratch his arm through his sleeves. On exceedingly awful days, Sam would run his hand up and down Bucky's arm, a comforting gesture that soothed him and calmed the riptide of emotions that threatened to drown him from the inside out.

Over time, he became too reliant and his friends became too attached. They suffocated him. They spent all day with him in his room, judging him on his little habits and insisting his efforts would never be good enough to ensure being a good person. They surrounded him at home like devils on his shoulders and followed him everywhere he went, never leaving his side.

Soon came the day he realised it all needed to change, that he had to get away. Wanda and Natasha had visited his home after some light shopping and he had zoned-out, ignoring their words to him, only to hear the delicate sound of Sarah singing in the kitchen. She wasn't in the kitchen. ‘That’s just who you are’ ringing in his ears. Where was she? He couldn't find her. ‘That’s not who I want to be’ immersed in his mind. Sarah died. Steve was in pain. How could she be here?

Was she calling to him?

Now, he ran, but he knew that no matter how fast he went, they would catch him. He acknowledged that becoming friends with them was the worst mistake he ever made. He knew they were going to be the end of him, tear him from the inside out.

He was aware they were evil, no matter how innocent they seemed to be. And deep down, he figured that they would be around the corner. 

When he ran into Wanda, she was quick in her movements. Pinning him down and limiting his movements, stopping his arms from flailing and legs from kicking. His panic heightened when Clint forced his mouth open, holding it in place while they all stared at him. Dirty smiles appearing on their faces as they watched him struggle against their strength.

When Natasha appeared, calmly stalking over to where they had him restrained, tears began to fill his pale blue eyes, blurring his vision of her ghostly appearance. He blinked away the salty water, and was just able to make out the bottle of radiator fluid she held beside her. He had easily recognised it.

Sam began to pet his arms, the movements tender and slow, with gentle liquid trickles left in the aftermath of his touch. Tony was pushing down on his chest, his fingers digging into the flesh and causing his lungs to ache with the pain of not breathing. Wanda held his legs, pulling his waist down with the strength of an ocean that threatened to drown him. Clint kept Bucky's mouth open, his grip tight on his jaw as he looked over to Natasha and nodded, signalling for her to uncap the bottle.

They were all still and cold, smiles frozen on their faces, replicating statues in the dead of winter. No sudden movements were made as they stared at him and he began to feel more vulnerable, more frightened. Silent rain continued to beat down onto his face and the only sounds that could be heard was his laboured breathing and the gentle wind chimes that swayed in the distance.

Natasha sauntered over to him, wet hair dripping over her face and blocking his vision of her cold, pale appearance. She knelt next to his head, not a word spoken as she gripped Bucky's hollow cheeks and forced his mouth open, placing the bottle over his face, and beginning to gradually pour the yellow liquid into his open mouth. 

Bucky began to cough and splutter, the stench filling his nostrils and the deathly fluid lining his throat. Unwillingly, he found himself swallowing, with the sounds of their retched laughter guiding him on. None of their superhuman strength let up, even when he followed their wishes and they watched on as the thick, reeking liquid filled his stomach and his eyes slowly began to drift shut.

––––––––--------------

When he had walked into the apartment, his chest tightened and his heart dropped. As soon as he spotted the thin, lifeless body on the floor, he froze, tears sprang to his eyes and clouded his vision as the scent of sweet-smelling oil flooded his nostrils and the sight of blood all over the apartment floor embedded itself into his memory.

Hope and determination had filled his heart and mind. He had lost Bucky so many years ago. Couldn't reach far enough to save his life. Strength had built up in his soul upon seeing Bucky alive. He had to save him this time.

Except he was too late. Once again, he couldn't reach far enough. A two year search, ending like this. With his best friend, his partner in crime, his secret forever lying on the floor. Eyes wide open and staring at nothing.

With the sight of dried blood from the cuts he made on his wrists and the engine oil he held tightly in his right hand, Steve stumbled over to his lover, lost to the stars, and fell apart.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading !!!!! toodle loo


End file.
